ter of the place? If he were a good preacher? Who preached at the
Chapel? And if he were a good preacher, and a good liver too, Madam--I
must inquire after that: for I love, but I must needs say, that the
clergy should practise what they preach.

Very right, Sir; but that is not so often the case as were to be wished.

More's the pity, Madam. But I have a great veneration for the clergy in
general. It is more a satire upon human nature than upon the cloth, if
we suppose those who have the best opportunities to do good, less perfect
than other people. For my part, I don't love professional any more than
national reflections.--But I keep the lady in her closet. My gout makes
me rude.

Then up from my seat stumped I--what do you call these window-curtains,
Madam?

Stuff-damask, Sir.

It looks mighty well, truly. I like it better than silk. It is warmer
to be sure, and much fitter for lodgings in the country; especially for
people in years. The bed is in a pretty state.

It is neat and clean, Sir: that's all we pretend to.

Ay, mighty well--very well--a silk camblet, I think--very well, truly!--I
am sure my wife will like it. But we would not turn the lady out of her
lodgings for the world. The other two apartments will do for us at
present.

Then stumping towards the closet, over the door of which hung a
picture--What picture is that--Oh! I see; a St. Cecilia!

A common print, Sir!

Pretty well, pretty well! It is after an Italian master.--I would not
for the world turn the lady out of her apartment. We can make shift with
the other two, repeated I, louder still: but yet mumblingly hoarse: for I
had as great regard to uniformity in accent, as to my words.

O Belford! to be so near my angel, think what a painful constraint I was
under.

I was resolved to fetch her out, if possible: and pretending to be
going--you can't agree as to any time, Mrs. Moore, when we can have this
third room, can you?--Not that [whispered I, loud enough to be heard in
the next room; not that] I would incommode the lady: but I would tell my
wife when abouts--and women, you know, Mrs. Moore, love to have every
thing before them of this nature.

Mrs. Moore (said my charmer) [and never did her voice sound so harmonious
to me: Oh! how my heart bounded again! It even talked to me, in a
manner; for I thought I heard, as well as felt, its unruly flutters; and
every vein about me seemed a pulse; Mrs. Moore] you may acquaint t